


Granola

by fireroasted



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/F, Fluff, Weird Personal Challenge, costco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireroasted/pseuds/fireroasted
Summary: Emma Swan falls in love at first sight with a gorgeous Costco sampler, who turns out to be a little different than most.





	1. Granola Sampling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eoxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eoxie/gifts).



> I was playing HQ the other day and was given the question, "The term 'glamping' is a combination of what two words?" The options were: granola sampling, gorgeous vamping, and glamorous camping. 
> 
> So, in the spirit of being gay trash, I sent the screenshot to my friend and said, "Wouldn't all of these key words make the best fic?" 
> 
> So, of course, this happened. It was too good not to. Still, possibly one of the strangest pieces I've done in recent years.

****  
The day Emma Swan falls in love is like any other. It’s a Sunday, and, in her sweats like everyone else, she pushes around one of their many comically large shopping carts, scouring the aisles for free samples. From meters away, her eyes light up when she sees a table full of little plastic cups, and she nearly breaks into a run as she rattles her cart toward it. Her face falls when she sees the bland browns of granola.    
  
“Well? Are you going to take one or not?”    
  
Emma looks up into the eyes of quite possibly the most beautiful Costco sampler in the world. Her eyes flick down to her name tag.  _ Regina _ . The perfect name for a woman of such...power and allure.    
  
Hairnet, cap, apron, and all.    
  
“Are you done gawking, dear?”    
  
Emma swallows. She nods, as coolly as possible as she picks up a cup of granola and downs it.    
  
“We have spoons, you know,” Regina says with a smirk, gesturing to the utensils beside the tray.    
  
“Right,” Emma mumbles. She thanks her awkwardly and ambles away with her cart. But something draws her back every time. She winds the aisles, traverses up and down the pet food aisle several times before she finds the courage to return to the granola table.    
  
“You’re back,” the woman says drily. Emma inwardly curses. She had definitely hoped it wouldn’t be too suspicious.    
  
“I’m surprised,” Regina says, crossing her arms, “from the way you ate that granola, it was like I’d given you a cup of rocks. And yet. Here you are again.”    
  
“I, uh, actually really like granola?”    
  
The woman chuckles, and it makes Emma feel all tingly inside. “If you want my number, just ask,” Regina pauses, her smile almost shy as she pulls out a pen and scribbles something on a napkin, “besides...I make far better granola than this.”    
  
And there, in the middle of the Sunday morning Costco rush, clutching the most precious napkin in the whole world, Emma Swan falls in love.


	2. Gorgeous Vamping

Regina is different from most other women Emma has come across. Not just in the cheesy beautiful queen sense that Emma constantly finds herself thinking, but...there is something else about Regina. Something...perhaps a little...inhuman?

The first telltale sign appears on their third date, far later than most would expect, but when you’re on dates—plural—with a woman like Regina Mills, there’s hardly a moment for clarity. Reality, Emma decides, is confusing enough when Regina was just a Costco sampler in a hairnet and apron.

Emma was standing beside Regina, shoulder to shoulder in spite of all the space around them, as she pretended to understand what Regina was seeing while they were admiring a painting. The painting, a large eyeball with a skyful of clouds inside its irises, creeped Emma out.

“It’s staring into my soul,” she tried to joke.

Regina scoffed, by now a familiar sound that seems to have a way of tugging at Emma’s heart. “Is that what you see when you look at yourself, dear? Clouds?”

“I’m soft and fluffy, aren’t I?” she said, nudging Regina with her shoulder.

Regina hummed, the quietest smile resting on her perfect lips. “And full of air.”

Emma nodded before the words registered. Then—“Hey!” she huffed.

Regina’s rich laughter filled the room, and it’s Emma’s most favourite thing in the world. “You’re just the kind of weirdo René would’ve loved.”

“Who?”

Regina stiffened, her expression visibly changing as she hardened her eyes at the painting. That was the first sign. When Emma follows her gaze to the golden plate beside the painting, reading “The False Mirror by René Magritte, 1928,” something bristled along the back of her neck.

It isn’t a far stretch to think of Regina as such a connoisseur of the arts that she had simply been intimately familiar with the artist’s biography, but there was such affection to her voice. It was as if she knew him.

Emma swept her eyes over Regina’s perfect profile. Surely, she looked no older than forty. How could she possibly—Emma shook her head.

“Nevermind,” Emma said, breaking the tension with a smile, “wanna get some food?”

“Only if it’s not those horrendous corn dogs.”

“Hey! Corn dogs are delicious.”

Regina rolled her eyes, but doesn’t even hesitate when she slipped her hand into Emma’s.

Emma’s grin broadened, and nothing else mattered.

Emma doesn’t think about it again until they were snuggling months later on Emma’s old couch. Regina, attractive as ever with her reading glasses and heavy tome on her lap, was playing absentmindedly with the strands of Emma’s hair as she laid against her, scrolling through her cell phone and consuming social media as voraciously as Regina consumed literature.

Suddenly, Emma snorted. Regina turned a page.

“Babe, look at this,” Emma said, waving her phone in front of Regina’s face.

Regina rolled her eyes. “If I have to see more philosophizing dinosaurs, Emma…”

“Aw, Regina, welcome to 2010,” Emma teased, planting a kiss on Regina’s cheek. “But no, look at this cat.” With a resigned sigh, Regina bookmarked her page and peered over at Emma’s phone, unable to resist the amused smile when she watches a kitten’s head poke out of a sock. “Not that philosoraptor isn’t the greatest philosopher in the world. Hell, he’s probably best philosopher in history. Better than Socrates, even.”

Regina raised a brow. “And what would you know about Socrates, dear?”

“He’s, uh,” Emma scratched her chin nervously, “super famous. And has a cool beard.”

Regina laughed and shook her head. “He was a conceited, sexist moron,” she said matter-of-factly. “The only reason Plato was so in love with him was because he was also a conceited, sexist moron. Now, do you have any more of these little cat videos?”

Emma blinked.

“Emma?”

“O-oh! Yeah,” Emma said with a toothy smile, “yeah, of course. How can I resist dragging you down with me into the eternal pit of cat gifs and memes?”

The final set of clues, as Emma is about to find out, is not as subtle as the first two.

It’s the first time she has ever been invited to Regina’s house, and she ends up winding through the forest until her GPS resigns and all but tells her to give up and go home. She attempts to call Regina, but her cell phone lost signal miles ago.

And so, Emma clambours out of her yellow bug and does the only thing she can think to do: lean back against the frame of her car and let out a long, futile whine for Regina to come get her.

When the grass almost immediately rustles behind her in response, she, in all of her despair, barely notices.

The next thing she _does_  notice is a hot breath on her neck, and her name in perfect, low tones that manages to freeze her blood and set her whole body aflame at the same time.

“R-Regina?” she chokes, turns, and breathes a sigh of relief when she meets those familiar, warm eyes.

“You called for me,” Regina says with a slow smile, “and now I am here.”

“How did you get here so fast?” Emma asks, furrowing her brows.

Regina extends a hand, and, for a second, she almost looks nervous. Regina Mills. Nervous. Emma dismisses the thought—surely, it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while,” Regina says softly. “I thought I might as well show you.”

Without another word, she easily picks up Emma, hooking one arm under her legs and another around her shoulder, ignoring her little squeak of surprise. In the span of five seconds—just enough for Emma to decide she truly is turned on by this strangely soft, yet aggressive side of Regina—they arrive at the door of a massive, massive mansion.

“W-woah.”

Regina gingerly puts her down and forfeits a small smile. “You were pretty close. Only five miles away from the front gate, actually.”

“Five miles? Wha—did we just—”

Regina averts her eyes then, and suddenly Emma can’t recall her ever looking so small. Even in her hair net she had been the most impressive woman she’d ever come across.

Regina sucks in a breath and meets Emma’s eyes—she can’t recall ever seeing them so stormy. So full of...something. “This is my house,” Regina says unsteadily. “And this,” she gestures to her perfect self like it’s something self-explanatory, “is me.”

“I don’t understand,” Emma says, only to be immediately shushed by a finger to her lips.

“Listen, Emma,” she continues, “I’m...not like you.” Emma raises a brow. “What I mean to say is...well, I never meant to hide this from you. I just never expected to fall so deeply. I never...I never thought I could fall so deeply. I’m...why is this so hard?” She sucks in another breath. “I’m not human.”

Emma nodded slowly, pretending to understand.

“I ran five miles in five seconds. René and I used to have tea together, and Socrates...well, I can’t say I was too sad to see him go.”

Emma blinks, memories suddenly falling into place.

“I’m...I’m a vampire. I’ve been a vampire for three thousand years, Emma.”

“Huh.”

Regina cocks a brow. “Is that...all you have to say?”

“N-no, no! It just...makes a lot of sense.”

“What?”

Emma shrugs and digs her hands into her pockets sheepishly. “I mean the way you talk a lot of the time… I know you’re way smarter than me, but sometimes I get the feeling that you’ve...seen so much, you know? So much that I almost wish I could see the world the way you do because you just...look so lonely sometimes.”

“So, you...you don’t mind?”

Emma’s eyes snap up. Then she’s there, holding her steadily like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Why would I mind?” Emma whispers into her ear. “I love you, Regina. More than anything.”

Regina settles into the crook of Emma’s neck. “I love you too,” she mumbles. She takes in Emma’s scent like it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” Emma suddenly says. Regina freezes, and almost instinctively, Emma rubs her back, rubs the warmth right back into her heart.

“W-what is it?”

“You’ve been around for three thousand years, and you have this huge house in the middle of the woods…”

“Mmhmm.”

“Why were you working at Costco?”

Reginna hummed. “I guess I was just waiting to meet you,” she says, immediately prompting a loud scoff in her ear. “And maybe I’ve just been really, really bored lately.”

“And there’s nothing more fun than free samples, right?”

“Sure, dear,” Regina laughs, kissing her softly. “Let’s go with that.”


	3. Glamorous Camping

On Emma’s 30th birthday, they agree to start a family.

Adoption agencies are sceptical of Emma’s brief stint in prison and Regina’s hazy work records. Other than her short two months at Costco, she didn’t really have anything else to go on, and conventional employers wouldn't know what to do with various European titles and questionable apprenticeships spanning the course of human history.

“There’s nothing questionable with working alongside Galileo, Emma,” Regina had said one day, pinching her nose as they tried to cobble together _something_ of a normal profile.

“You know, I just thought of something,” Emma said thoughtfully. She twirled a pen between her fingers with a grin.

Regina narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“You’re quite the groupie, aren’t you?”

“What?” Regina repeated, aghast.

“I mean, you’ve hung out with so many famous people in the past, I can’t help but wonder if—ow!” Emma ducks her head with a yelp when Regina suddenly jabbed her in the side with her own pen, baring a fang in a smirk.

“I’ll have you know, Miss Swan,” Regina huffed, throwing back her beautiful black waves in that way that Emma loves so much, “It is no coincidence that these nameless dreamers whom I worked with become famous after a while.”

Emma reached over and tugged Regina against her by the waist, pressing a kiss on her jaw as she whispered, “This all-powerful vampire thing is really, _really_ hot, you know that?”

Regina smirked. “So I’ve been told.”

“By who?” Emma cries, releasing her grip and pulling back with a frown.

“It’s ‘by whom’, dear.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “By _who_?”

Regina shrugged, eyes down at the laptop casually, as if she didn’t know the effect she was having on Emma. Oh, but Emma knew she knew. Emma always knows how much Regina loves making her squirm—her ego just never lets her take the higher road. And maybe also because this teasing side of Regina is also really, _really_ hot.

So Emma nudged her again. “By. Who.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Emma.”

“Regina.”

“Cleopatra.”

“Cleo— _what_?”

“I was young,” Regina said easily. “She was around—available—and she was...truly exquisite.”

“Well, try not to get too wet while reminiscing,” Emma snapped, crossing her arms.

Regina looked up from her screen—her eyes had been so wide and bright, and the smile on her lips was so _infuriating_ that Emma almost—almost—forgot what she was mad about right then and there. “My dear Miss Swan,” Regina said, “Are you...jealous?”

“Cleopatra!” Emma cried, throwing her hands up, “How— _what_?”

“Emma,” Regina sighed, her expression soft this time as she slipped her hand into Emma’s. “That woman has been dead for two thousand years, my love. Besides, I certainly never would’ve been stressing over adoption papers with her.”

“Aw, Re—”

“No matter how  _marvelous_ the sex was.”

“Regina!”

Regina laughed, pulling their entwined hands together for a kiss on the lips. “I love you, Emma.”

“Ugh, I love you too,” Emma grumbled back. “Even though I hate you.”

“Good,” Regina chuckled. “Can we try to focus on our future son or daughter now?”

Emma pulled Regina closer then, nearly pulling her onto her lap, and plants a kiss behind Regina’s exposed shoulder. “Can’t we just keep trying to have children the old fashion way?”

“You just don’t want to lose to Cleopatra, so you?” Regina thrummed softly under her touch.

“No. I hate that bitch,” Emma growled.

“You’ll forget about her soon enough,” Regina whispered, running her fingers along Emma’s upper arm. “She doesn’t even compare."

 

* * *

 

It’s over a year later when serendipity finds them running for cover under torrential rain. Emma takes Regina under her red leather jacket and guides them into the closest shelter.

They had been out for a walk after dinner, far from home on the other side of town. There was a quiet little park with a single structure—a red-roofed gazebo.

That’s where they meet Henry.

A twelve-year-old boy with a patched up spring coat, curled up under the gazebo at the height of winter. He’s sleeping soundly under a yellowed, dog-eared novel— _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_ by Jules Verne, according to the crackled spine.

Regina and Emma exchange a look upon seeing the sleeping boy, and something, _something_ clicks into place.

It takes a mere moment to fall in love with Henry, days to convince him to stay, weeks to get the boy to open up, months for him to get used to the word ‘family’, and years to win official custody.

On the day that Henry officially becomes Henry Swan-Mills, his new parents decide to take him on a trip.

Originally meant to be a surprise, his new parents were, unfortunately, too stubborn to keep it quiet when Henry came back from school one day to witness the two of them bickering. It was nothing new. He finds his new parents to be fascinating in the spectrum of their interactions: one moment at each other’s throats and another moment so fiercely in love that he needs to leave the room.

So, on this particular day, as he often did, he grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat down to watch.

“For the last time, Emma, I am _not_ sleeping on the floor. It’s filthy!” Regina cried, crossing her arms as she stood in the middle of the kitchen.

Emma, a full metre away, ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “It’s not called _camping_ if you don’t sleep in a tent.”

“I assure you sleeping in a _bed_ can be just as much fun. Mankind didn’t suffer through history trying to invent beds only to go _back_ to sleeping on the floor. Especially when we _have_ a perfectly good bed.”

When glaring didn’t work, Emma trotted over and wrapped an arm around Regina’s waist, pouting ever so slightly when she said, “But, ducky, where is the _adventure_?”

But Regina didn’t take the bait. “Don’t call me ducky while I am trying to talk sense into you, Miss Swan.”

“Ugh,” Emma said, letting go and shoving her hands into her pockets. “Don’t call me Miss Swan when I’m trying not to get turned on by you.”

“Emma!”

“What!”

“Henry’s right there! Don’t say such things in front of our son!”

Henry looked up at the sound of his name, chewing his cereal innocently.

Emma beamed, and sat down beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, Hen, you wanna go on adventure?”

Henry swallowed politely before responding. “I do, Ma, but I’m not picking sides. I love you both, and you’re probably both right, which I guess means you’re probably both wrong too.”

Emma laid her forehead on Henry’s shoulder in defeat. “You’re going to grow up being as lame as Regina,” she sighed.

“Mom met Jules Verne, so… I guess I’ll be pretty cool when I grow up,” he responded with a toothy grin before digging back into his cereal.

Emma ruffled his hair. “So much for not picking sides, Hen!” Then, she stuck her tongue out at Regina. “I still stand by the tents!”

Regina waved a hand in response. “Fine, I’ll make the booking.”

 

* * *

 

 

And, really, Emma should’ve expected it when Regina so readily gave in. But when they arrived at the campsite, Emma can’t help but scream.

“What the hell is this?”

The so-called “tent” that Regina rented was like a gorgeous open-concept IKEA bedroom with a little fire pit to pretend it’s still considered camping. There was even a _deck_. A cabin in the woods would be more like camping than this.

“Don’t worry,” Regina said, sauntering over to the entrance with he and Henry’s bags, “I didn’t forget your request. Your tent is over there.”

Following Regina’s gaze and her obnoxiously beautiful triumphant smirk, Emma found a metre-tall canvas strung up between two trees. In other words, a real tent.

Emma gaped at her arrangement—it looked flimsier than Eeyore’s house, and probably fitted her just as well.

“Speechless, my love?” Regina asked, standing on the deck with her arms akimbo like the Lucifer she was. “Of course, if you want to _camp_ with Henry and me over here, you’re welcome to.”

Henry patterned up to Regina and tugged at her arm, his eyes wide. “Mom, there’s a freezer full of ice cream in here!”

“Wha—”

“Oh, Emma, did you want to come join us?” Regina said, gesturing to the house.

Emma lifted her chin. “You’re not tempting me into _glamping_ with a few buckets of ice cream. I’m perfectly happy with my tent!”

Regina pressed a hand to her chest. “Me?” She feigned, “I would never do such a thing! A true _camper_ like you—I would expect nothing less.”

And that isn’t the last time Emma curses her ego. After an admittedly good time roasting freshly unsealed supermarket food and singing songs around the campfire, Emma returns to her cold one-person tent and squeezes herself inside. As she expected, her feet stick out just a bit, and she can feel every jagged edge on the ground through her thin sleeping bag. And she’s pretty sure there’s a caterpillar on the roof of her tent and she can’t stop imagining it falling into her mouth.

In spite of all this, the worst thing is the pit of loneliness in her stomach. It reminds her of prison bars, strangers’ beds, and sleeping in her car. As if her beautiful family was just one, long daydream.

And it’s that thought that has her bolting out of her sleeping bag and leaping over the empty fire pit and up the stupid deck. She pauses for a moment and looks up at the sky, peppered with a billion stars.

This—this is the true beauty of camping, she decides, and wishes Regina and Henry were awake to see it. The thought of her family finds her aching to be with them, and she wastes no more time.

It’s warm inside—of course it is. She kicks off her shoes and approaches the massive bed, her heart softening at the sight of Henry snuggled up against Regina. As quietly as possible, Emma sinks onto Regina’s side of the bed and wraps her arm around her.

It takes only a moment for Regina to feel her presence, her sleepy eyes turning to meet Emma’s like so many times before.

“Took you long enough,” Regina mumbled, kissing her briefly, “I missed you. We missed you.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed. She finds Regina’s hand on her stomach and laces her fingers between them. “Me and my stupid ego.” Regina chuckles softly, and strokes Emma’s finger with her thumb. “And it’s been too long since I slept without you, ducky. It sucks.”

Regina hums, yawns, and snuggles comfortably into Emma’s front. “I agree entirely.”

“Even though you made me glamp, I still love you, Regina.”

“Love you too, Emma,” Regina murmurs. And the last thing Regina feels is Emma’s smile against the soft skin of her shoulder before falling back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting this story. I didn’t expect anyone to read my weirdness, but I’m so happy people did. I also didn’t really expect this weirdness to turn out so cute. I also didn’t expect to write this chapter (which was why I set it on complete previously) but I’m glad I did! This is much fuller :)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
